


Running in Place

by RussianWitch



Series: Steps [2]
Category: Fast and the Furious Series, The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Consent Issues, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Hand Jobs, M/M, Trust Issues, the dogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 19:13:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5638636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things get worse before they get better</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running in Place

**Author's Note:**

> not beta'd

"You don't trust me, man." If Brian had shouted the accusation, Dominic might have been able to think of a comeback. He could have waltzed over it, changed the subject, or could have thrown out some accusations of his own. Instead, Brian says it calmly, says it like Dominic's lack of trust is a fact of life he's already accepted that it's not going to change and he's fine with it.

Dominic hates that acceptance.

He also doesn't see the situation changing any time soon. He'd started to trust Brian once, only to get his foundation pulled from under his feet. Dominic is still getting used to the whole deal: the vest he's supposed to wear on the job that marks him as a Guide to everyone who cares to look, the friends who've disappeared now that he's a cop's property. Nothing he could do or say could have changed their minds—not when he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop himself.

"I—" He doesn’t know what to say. Reaches out blindly and feels fur under his fingers. The Pit is there appearing out of thin air like the freaky mutt it is. "I'm trying." He sighs, because there is no way back: they are stuck with each other no matter how they feel on the subject.

Bonded: some kind of mythical, or genetic bull that's bound them together for life. Under different circumstances, Dominic might not have minded that much—the thought of having the one person who could always be counted on to watch your back no matter what, did have a certain appeal. Before everything had gone to hell there had been something there, something that might have grown into— He hates thinking about 'might have been', goes off to the gym, or into the garage every time he feels those thought creep up: reminds himself that his family is safe now no matter what happens to him.

"I know." Brian's hand twitches, like he wants to reach out, but forces himself not to. They need touch for some weird reason: skin to skin contact is mandatory to keep their heads screwed on straight apparently, to keep Brian from going around the bend for sure, and possibly Dominic as well. It should come naturally: he's always been happy to touch the ones closest to him, only now that he has to—it's different. Somehow he's self-conscious about it now of how much he wants to touch. Every time he catching himself reaching for O'Conner, he holds back, hesitates and pulls away from the contact unless one of them is nearly at the point of collapse.

Living with a human lie detector is a pain, he'd found out fast, even with a considerate one who's trying—Dominic isn't even sure what the hell Brian is trying to do. Make things easier on the both of them? Make up for doing his job? Give Dominic the illusion he didn't basically sell his ass to keep everyone out of jail?

Grabbing Brian's hand, he pulls the Sentinel close making him lean against his side. "You don't have to—" The blond protests, but Dominic can feel relief coming off of him in painful waves adding to the guilt and confusion already choking him when Dominic doesn't actively work on pushing them down. Even after his protests don't accomplish anything, Brian still tries struggle if half-heartedly, the Sentinel finally settles awkwardly against Dominic's side, nuzzling at his throat and the scar he's left there.

Brian's breath warm and moist on his skin, the feel of it makes something twist in his gut. A spark he doesn't care to put a name to that has him shivering, and tightening the hand on Brian's shoulder when he tries to pull away again. "It's not that bad, you don't—"

"Shut up, O'Conner." He snaps, unwilling to listen to any apologies, or excuses. No matter how much he hates admitting it even to himself, having Brian this close is a relief as much as it is an annoyance. Just one more thing they are required to share now: personal space, car, bed, house, life. The memory of Brian's offer that afternoon surfaces reminding Dominic that pretty much everyone else is expecting them to be fucking as well.

Hell, Brian expected them to fuck, at least at first.

Or something, still hard to imagine people needing to fuck instead of just wanting, like they are going to die if they don't get any. He hates those memories when they ambush him: the way Brian acted, his own reactions to — The memories catch him out on occasion, ambush him in the shower, or early in the morning while he's waking up: reminding him what the buster offered. Two days before, he'd woken up his hand already on his dick, and Brian plastered against his back.

He'd bailed, but the sense memory of Brian, of Brian's hard dick against his ass had stayed with him for the rest of the day. Considering everyone already assumes he's getting fucked anyway, Dominic probably shouldn't care, maybe let Brian do it: get it over with already. Can't be that bad considering enough people do it voluntarily—considering his current position sex is the least of his problems.

Unfortunately it's also the only problem he has any control over.

Now that he's in the system, the 'orientation' they'd been required to attend has certainly put things into perspective, one Dominic doesn't like one bit. He'd been lucky to get missed in school, was lucky to have been triggered by Brian and not one of the assholes brainwashed by the military into believing Guides to be nothing more than tools. After getting lectured how he is supposed to follow Brian's lead in everything, shut up, and basically disappear into the woodwork until he is needed to ground the Sentinel, he'd been ready to walk out damn the consequences. Only remembering what would happen to his family, and to Brian, had kept his ass in the flimsy chair.

After the first lectures, Dominic had half expected Brian to change—only he's still waiting. While the Centre personnel has made demands, every last one of them had been shot down: they are still in Echo Park in the house that's still in Dominic's name instead of in one of the sterile apartments on the central compound where people can 'keep an eye on them'. Thinking about the move that didn't happen, Dominic somewhat guiltily realizes that he's never asked Brian where he'd lived before he'd been send undercover. He knew that Brian had been sleeping in Harry's back room when they'd first met, but before—he hasn't really cared enough to ask. He hasn't cared about Brian's friends, or Brian's real history. Hasn't even asked if Brian actually likes cars, or just had to learn for the case. The Sentinel hasn't exactly volunteered information either, and that's probably a problem and possibly Dominic's fault as well.

He wonders if it's part of Brian's attempts to give him space.

The only time they seem to be in sync, it's when they are on call: Brian having been assigned patrol duty allowing them to drive around L.A. on the lookout for problems. The cops aren't sure where they are supposed to fit Brian now that he's useless for undercover work, don't trust Dominic not to blow any operation they could be set to either. A lot of time is spend on the range certifying him for various guns, he doesn't mention already being familiar with.

In the car, on the job, sometimes Dominic forgets and he suspects Brian does to and they find themselves back in sync like all those weeks before shit hit the fan. But as soon as they get home, something changes and they end up a couple of strangers, who just happen to have to sleep in the same bed.

Dominic doesn't want to live with a stranger. "Where's ya family? Do they know ya—" He doesn't like the word 'bonded', and doesn't want to think of it as 'married', eventually just waves his hand in front the both of them.  

Brian shrugs against him. "Mom's probably still in Barstow—haven't seen her since graduation. I've not heard anything about my dad—since I was about eight? Not exactly the Brady's us." It's more than that, Dominic can feel it. "Mom, was never too comfortable to have a mutant for a son. Was mostly raised by the L.A. Centre, by the end I didn't even go back for holidays."

"That's fucked up." He can't imagine living in the mausoleum that's the Centre main building. Everything bland, and barren: Dominic would go nuts if he had to live there. "Wasn't bad." As they talk Brian moves his arm, lets his hand slip and fall on Dominic's abdomen resting there like a brand skin to skin contact only prevented by thin cotton. "Especially for a Sentinel who had never experienced real quiet before. I think I slept like a week after they took me in!" He has to wonder how Brian looked as a kid? "So you had those same classes?"

This revelation makes Dominic wonder why Brian is nothing like those gung-ho for Guide obedience bastards, but bending over backwards to treat Dominic like an equal. "Sort of, the Sentinel half of them anyway, but—my mentor didn't agree with the party line, so—." Dominic notes that Brian is careful not to give an opinion one way or the other, has to wonder suddenly if his place isn't bugged. It makes him wonder again if, once he manages to relax, things won't change after all.

Shifting, he throws an arm around Brian's shoulder thinking that under different circumstances he wouldn't have had much trouble with finding a reason to trust Brian again. "So the dogs—" He changes the subject, he's gotten used to the random appearances and disappearances—mostly. "Do they eat?" He can't recall feeding them, or getting any instructions about them. At the Centre no one talked about suddenly acquiring ghost mutts or other animals. "The drones, they don't talk about complimentary pets."  

"They wouldn't." Brian twists until he's practically in Dominic's lap, reaching over the armrest to pet each of the two mutts who shamelessly push forward to get petted having appeared next to them. "Not to say they don't have them, just—you have to be open to the experience I suppose."  

"So, how come I see them?" Dominic wonders grudgingly scratching behind a pointed ear. He's never been the 'spiritual' type, sporadic visits to church aside, certainly not one to believe in ghosts or spirit animals. Something huffs against his arm, probably offended.

"You really should give him a name, you know." Brian ignores the question. "He'll probably be less moody." Somehow, Dominic doesn't buy it. He and the Pit haven't really been getting along from the start. The dog thinks he's being an idiot, and Dominic when he can bring himself to admit to understanding a dog, thinks the mutt should mind his own business. "'Dog' is a name." He grumbles, ignoring the warning growls from both the mutts and Brian's annoyed sigh.

"Come on, man!" Brian huffs: everyone ganging up on him.

"Fine, whatever, how about: Dodge?" That, silences the whole gang. He can feel Brian watching him, waiting for something, almost holding his breath. He finally looks down at the dog, doesn't realize that he's leaning in until Dodge swipes his tongue across his face. "Fuck!" He jerks back, wipes his face and ignores Brian shaking against his side. "At least he likes it?" The blonde offers uselessly.

"Grand." Ghost dogs shouldn't slobber, Dominic decides grabbing the sleeve of Brian's shirt to wipe his face which doesn't really work, so he jerks the hem up—"Dom." Brian sounds like he's choking, enough that Dominic is distracted from mentally ranting at the dog's bad manners. Looking up, he's faced with everything he's been avoiding for weeks: Brian looks hungry.

The Sentinel's fingers are white from the force with which he's digging them into the couch, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he leans back as far as he can go trying to push through the back of the couch. All because—he jerks back realizing what he's been doing. "Sorry." The word almost gets stuck in his throat, he's that embarrassed wondering what the hell possessed him.

"It's fine—, just I need to—" Brian pushes at him, waving his hand towards the stairs and Dominic wonders why he still needs to be pushes away. Looking down at the Sentinel's lap it's not difficult to guess why he wants to bail, only that won't accomplish anything in the long run. So he twists his fingers tighter into the shirt, not moving an inch. "Come on, man! Don't—"

"I want to see." He blurts throwing it out as soon as possible, so changing his mind isn't an option any longer.

"See what?" Brian snaps.

"O'Conner!" He growls, because saying the thing out loud, asking—for that is more than he can deal with. "Come on!" He yanks at the shirt he's holding, pulling it up a little to look at a sliver of pale skin.

"Fuck you!" He doesn't exactly expect Brian to be happy with the request, but Dominic didn't expect him to get pissed, or practically getting kicked in the ribs as Brian struggles to get away.

"What?" He demands defensively, keeping hold of the Sentinel. "Ya offered more while back." Not like he doesn't have a general idea of how Brian looks naked by now, the dick isn't going to come as a surprise. He leans in, pinning the Sentinel with his shoulder in case Brian tries to escape again and gets an elbow in the ribs for his efforts. "Yeah, expecting—you know—, participation." The one thing Dominic can't really give him, doesn't even want to think about really. "And was half out of my mind." Brian adds somewhat resentfully.

Maybe, under different circumstances Dominic would have left it at that, only now the idea is stuck in his head and the more he thinks about it, the more he's convinced this needs to happen: he needs to see. "Not like you've got anything I haven't seen before." Their recent cohabitation aside there's been locker rooms, and race tracks—he doesn’t want to think about prison, shuts down the train of thought going there mentally grinding it into dust, but it isn't exactly like Dominic has ever had the luxury of being shy around naked guys.

"Why?" The Sentinel demands, twisting to look Dominic in the eyes, and to his annoyance he feels his cheeks heat up.

"I—" Dominic's hand clenches on Brian's skin, feels it twitch under his touch grabs Brian by the neck and forces his face back into the crook of his neck. "Forget it alright, if you can't handle—" He knows, he's being a bastard, feels Brian tense further against him.

"Funny!" Brian snaps, wiggling around but no longer trying to get away. Dominic gets an elbow in his ribs, and almost a knee to the balls he really should care more about, only he doesn’t because his gut is telling him that Brian is caving. "You're helping." He decides, and Dominic is ready to protest only Brian's glare, and the Sentinel's fingers closing around his wrist like a cuff keep him silent. Once Brian is sure he isn't going to fight the grasp, the Sentinel braids their fingers together his free hand working the buttons of his jeans open until there is room enough to shove both their hands into his pants.

Dominic's hand brushes rough, springy hair and soft skin, he wants to pull back but Brian's grip is too tight forcing him to close his fingers around the half hard shaft. The flesh twitches in his grasp, and it's too familiar for comfort —too wrong without feeling of being grasped. "Feel like singing show tunes yet?" Brian sneers in his ear seductively and Dominic jerks back, not having realized that he'd leaned forward practically curling himself around the blonde.

"Fuck you!" He snaps back, sorry he's said it as soon as the words leave his mouth. Brian, just forces their hands tighter stroking his dick at an excruciatingly slow pace. Dominic's hand tightens reflectively on the hard flesh still looking for sensation, jerks back and frees Brian from his pants in the process. Not the same as his own dick: shades of pink and red, slimmer and probably just looking longer, veiny and just different.

Brian likes it rougher, faster too judging from the way he drags Dominic's hand along twisting their fingers a little every time they brush against the circumcision scar. He tries not to think about it, not to pay attention, but Brian swallows a moan and the sound does something to Dominic twists in his gut and makes him pay attention to all the wrong things. Pay attention to the way Brian bites his lip when he think Dominic can't see, how he fights to stay silent. Again he thinks about all the filthy things Brian talked about—then, the enjoyment he seemed to get from it. Brian isn't the silent type when turned on it seems.

He can't remember being with someone who isn't quiet, curiosity makes him forget that Brian is a guy and he shouldn't— He tightens his grip, twisting their hands so he can rub at the one spot that always gets him going when he's doing this to himself. Brian shudders and gasps, digs his foot into the carpet throwing his head back. Sweat is starting to bead on Brian's throat, close enough that Dominic can smell it, he could bend his head just a degree and he could lick the taste of it from Brian's skin.

The thought snaps him out of the haze he's fallen into freezing Dominic mid-stroke leaving Brian whining in protest. He half expects the Sentinel to demand more or at least something, but he only throws an arm around the back of the couch and—waits. Like it's Dominic's decision what's going to happen next. They end up holding hands, Dominic isn't sure who moved or turned only that he's stroking his thumb along the side of Brian's hands the same way he did along the Sentinel's dick. Their fingers slick and sticking together with Brian's pre-come, Brian guides their hands up bringing them to his mouth to lap at the mess.

Hands shouldn't be so sensitive, Brian licking along the side of his finger shouldn't go straight to his dick making it stir unnervingly. "Quit it." He whispers, completely ignored until Brian goes back to stroking himself. His body slack and heavy against Dominic's side, mercifully bending his head to rest his cheek on Dominic's chest instead of panting in his ear—at least he thinks it a small mercy at first. Then Brian's hot breath dampens his shirt, it chafes against his nipple the flesh tightening arousal blooming in his gut, and all the while Brian keeps stroking faster and rougher, biting his lip to keep more moans from spilling out or maybe to keep from biting down. Teeth just a little too sharp to be human mangling a full bottom lip as Brian chases release.

His dick strains against his pants throbbing in synch with Brian's strokes. It's probably just the situation, the weirdness of the 'bond' pulling them together forcing them to do—things. Dominic shifts his weight, and somehow Brian is even closer his face buried in Dominic's chest, the vibrations of his moans and curses setting Dominic's nerves on fire, his hand tightening on Brian's dick slick with pre-come again and cramping from the strain. Against his Brian twists and shifts until he can fuck into their hands, his knee ending up between Dominic's legs rubbing against him with ever one of Brian's thrusts. He wants to protest, but the words stick in his throat and fall apart every time Brian's thigh presses against him. The Sentinel keens against his chest, greedy and desperate and somehow Dominic knows that Brian needs more: needs taste and scent and touch. Digs his fingers in Brian's hair, forces his head up roughly, pulling him up until Brian is panting against his throat mouthing at the scar he left there, teeth snagging on the scar tissue and sinking in, Brian pressing tighter against him dick swelling in Dominic's hand and spilling himself on Dominic's abdomen as he made a mess of his jeans, pulling Brian closer feeling his pleasure along with his own. Aftershock ricochets between the two of them until Dominic isn't sure if he's feeling his own pleasure or Brian's, the sensations a confusing mess in his mind that shakes him from the daze he'd fallen into, or been coerced into—

With a curse he shoves Brian off of him to land on the floor with a curse, putting the couch between them to give himself room to think. "Remember, Dom! You asked." The Sentinel spits, and Dominic bites back the accusation on the tip of his tongue, turning away to stomp up the stairs and into the bedroom slamming the door behind him.

Feeling sticky and—wrong, he rips his clothing off turning the shower on as hot as he can stand. The water scald him, but it might just be enough to wash Brian's touch of his skin. Dodge has materialized behind him, following him under the spray. The ghost dog's body surprisingly warm and solid against his legs—comforting, too fucking comforting for comfort. He finds himself sitting under the spray arm around the dog wondering if this is what brainwashing feels like.   


End file.
